


From the Lives We Leave

by salire



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-04
Updated: 2009-12-04
Packaged: 2017-10-04 04:03:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salire/pseuds/salire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is, Brendon has always been head over heels in love with one Ryan Ross, virtually since the day they met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Lives We Leave

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a sort of companion piece to [A Little More Kill Bill](http://two-waymirror.livejournal.com/2915.html?) by [](http://darksylvia.livejournal.com/profile)[**darksylvia**](http://darksylvia.livejournal.com/) after my best friend [](http://hopefulgenius.livejournal.com/profile)[**hopefulgenius**](http://hopefulgenius.livejournal.com/) read it during BigBang and fell in love. Because her birthday was coming up, I decided that I would do this for her. I asked [](http://darksylvia.livejournal.com/profile)[**darksylvia**](http://darksylvia.livejournal.com/) if I could do it [here](http://two-waymirror.livejournal.com/2915.html?thread=9059#t9059) and because she's amazing and wonderful, she let me. It starts the day Brendon is abducted and turned by William and follows [](http://darksylvia.livejournal.com/profile)[**darksylvia**](http://darksylvia.livejournal.com/)'s storyline a little (very loosely for the most part XD;;) and then continues on until they fall asleep in the basement. Welcome to what my brain did in its imaginings of the night that Ryan and Brendon are locked in a cellar/bomb shelter together. Warnings for rimming, vampiric!bloodplay (I guess?), biting and so on. [](http://hopefulgenius.livejournal.com/profile)[**hopefulgenius**](http://hopefulgenius.livejournal.com/) beta'd and any remaining mistakes are mine, blah blah blah disclaiming now blah, GO.

The thing is, Brendon has always been head over heels in love with one Ryan Ross, virtually since the day they met. (Well, not that day, Ryan was being a bitch and sneering; but the next day, after they discovered he could sing and Ryan wouldn't stop watching him with wide golden eyes, that was the day he fell in love with Ryan.)

So when he's walking home from the store one night, back to his apartment and Ryan (because Ryan's been crashing there for a little over a month now), and he literally gets snatched off his feet, all he can think about is how he wishes he could see Ryan one more time before he blacks out.

 

***

 

A dark haze surrounds Brendon, fills him to the brim, clouds his thoughts, loads his mouth with a sharp, metallic taste.

It hurts. His skin feels tight as a drum against his muscles, and his neck, it's burning like it's on fire. He paws at it furiously, mewling sounds trailing out of his mouth because he's too far past any form of coherency for actual words.

Through the haze, Brendon can hear snippets of conversation but doesn't know any of the people that the voices belong to. All he can hear is 'Bill' and 'so pretty' and 'bit the hell out of him, didn't you.'

All he can think is RyanRyanRyanRyan.

 

***

 

When he wakes up there are two guys standing over him, one drinking tea and laughing delightedly at something and the other grinning broadly.

"Ryan?" he groans even though he doesn't mean to. He knows Ryan isn't here, hopes he isn't anyway.

"No, Mike," says the grinning one. "I'm Mike and that," he waves a hand at his companion, "is Bill, our leader. Welcome to the clan, kiddo."

Brendon blinks blearily, his body aching dully after so much pain. "What?"

The one drinking tea sets the cup down and leans over to press a hand over Brendon's forehead, pushing back his hair. He watches him for a moment, the corners of his mouth curling ever-so-slightly. "I'm William, Brendon. You must be very hungry."

And suddenly, Brendon's stomach clenches painfully and, god, he is he is he is, so hungry, starving, aching, please please please. He looks helplessly up at William, eyes wide and scared as he nods. "Mmhm."

William grins at Brendon's response, his teeth flashing momentarily in the firelight blazing in the far corner of the room. Fangs fill Brendon's vision, and he's not surprised. He's too hungry to really care. "Come on, then. I'll show you how to use that new body of yours."

 

***

 

William does just that. He shows Brendon how to hunt smartly, how to lure prey in like parched men to a river, how to hide in a crowd when undesirable company is about. William shows him when and where he should act like a human and, alternatively, a vampire (because that's what he is now, they tell him, one of them, one of the clan, a vampire).

His strength is in the luring, they find. If he stays too long in any one place, people can't help but be drawn to him. It was that way in real life too, uh, in his other life, back when he didn't have fangs. Back then, though, it was much more subtle and people could easily brush it off as annoying.

Now, now people practically beg to be allowed to touch him.

Through it all, William coddles Brendon, smoothes his hair down, whispers, "Such a pretty boy," and, "You're learning so fast," and, "So perfect," and Brendon would maybe believe him if he could think past the gnawing hunger in his stomach. But William says they have to wait for the perfect prey, wait for First Blood because it matters the most.

Brendon whines until William hushes him, tapping the tip of his nose lightly and saying, "Enough of that. Go make me some tea, will you?"

 

***

 

First Blood, it's a monumental moment in a vampire's life, almost a coming of age. The clan leader picks the victim out especially for the vampire and afterwards that vampire is merged into the clan.

It's three days before William returns with the news that he's found Brendon's prey. Brendon's skin itches with need, and he grins.

 

***

 

The victim is a boy about Brendon's age, skinny with a shy smile. He's taller than Brendon, just a little, and kohl frames his wide eyes. He's beautiful, and adrenaline soars through Brendon's veins at the sight of him.

He says, "Hello," and the boy seems startled before relaxing, smiling, replying, "Hey, what's up?"

Brendon shrugs, returning the smile, watching from beneath his eyelashes as the boy can't stop himself from coming closer. "Not much. You seem kind of lonely."

The boy offers his own shrug.

It's ten minutes before Brendon is pressed against the brick wall of an alleyway, dancing kisses along the boy's neck.

When he bites down, the boy barely sighs, pressing harder into Brendon.

Something in the back of his mind is crying out because the boy reminds him of someone, someone special, and he thinks Ryan as he laps the last droplets of scarlet from the boy's now badly bruised neck.

 

***

 

The boy, he's not Ryan. Brendon checked as soon as he remembered to think past the utter satisfaction of First Blood.

Brendon would've cried with relief, but William appears, and he can't remember why he returned to his victim in the first place.

 

***

 

Life with the clan, it's pretty spectacular. The population of vampires in the world is growing rapidly, their race is taking over. Still, regardless of how many new vampires are made under his reign William never stops reminding him of how good a boy he is.

The one drawback of being a vampire is the hunger that never stops. First Blood was like a first hit of heroin, after that there was only searching for something that could be that good again. Victim after victim pass over Brendon, into him, all skinny and tall and feminine and boys.

It's never enough.

 

***

 

He and two others from the clan are out on the hunt, keeping their eyes peeled for anyone that might make a good addition to the clan if they were turned after the feeding. They finally settle on a boy just Brendon's type, from what he can see in the alley's dim lighting. He smells perfect, more than perfect, and it sets against Brendon uneasily, but he shrugs it off.

They stalk the boy before beginning to approach him in front of a nightclub. Music blasts through its doors when it opens and shuts, neon lights flashing everything in purpleblue hues for mere seconds at a time.

Suddenly, a thick coldness splashes against Brendon's cheek, all along his shoulder, and he snarls as one of his partners slides to the ground with a thud, dark, deoxidized blood oozing onto the pavement.

"Brendon?"

And his mind says he knows that voice, his mind says RyanRyanRyan, and then it's shoved back, and all he can think is 'I've got to get back to William.'

He smiles pleasantly at the boy they'd been stalking, the vampire, he now realizes, Ryan. He knows how to play his cards right, when to show his hand and when to fold. He steadily watches both Ryan and the guy accompanying him who happens to be holding a bloody stake close. "Hello, Ross."

"Brendon, we," Ryan swallows, "we thought."

"That I was dead?" Brendon smiles, tries to make it look genuine. "Not so much. Were you worried?" He lifts his hand, fingers feathering through Ryan's bangs and lightly down against his cheek.

Ryan shifts closer, forward, and it feels familiar but distant, like riding a bike after ten years of not touching one. Brendon's fingertips trace along Ryan's cheekbone, over his jaw line, down across his neck and the pulse point that no longer beats. Their movements are slow as they invade each other's space, and Brendon wishes he could disobey William and leave him alive, kiss him, because RyanRyanRyanRyan.

But William's word forever takes precedence, as the dull ache behind his eyes reminds him plainly.

Then Ryan's friend moves, pressing the stake into Brendon's second companion, hitting his unmoving heart with the first strike.

Brendon hisses violently and lunges at Ryan because he's closest, but the other guy kicks him hard in the ribs, and he stumbles back, falls, and Ryan's above him to pin him down. "Pete," Ryan mutters, "don't."

The guy, Pete, looks down at them like Ryan's gone crazy, and Brendon thinks maybe he's right. Any well trained vampire would have cut out Brendon's heart by now. Pete says, "Ryan, he's not the guy you used to know."

Ryan looks down at him, eyes bright. "He is, somewhere in there. That priest, we need him to do what he did on me. He can. He can help, maybe."

"Ryan, after First Blood, there's nothing we can do. He's owned by whoever made him now."

Brendon sniffs but isn't struggling. There's no point in it, really. Even when they were alive, Ryan tended to be much stronger than he appeared. Death hadn't changed much, if the tight grip Ryan held on his wrists said anything at all. Also, you catch more flies with honey. He sighs and half-listens to Pete and Ryan's conversation, mostly listening for the okay that maybe they should kill him. But it never comes.

Instead, Ryan hauls him up by his wrist and Pete takes his other side to make sure he doesn't try to run for it. It's not like he'd try anyway, come on. Instead, he uses his charm, the corner of his mouth twisting up. "I missed you, Ryan."

Ryan looks at him, smiles a little in recognition; then Pete makes a disapproving noise, says, "Don't believe a fucking thing he says, Ryan," and Brendon scowls at him because, seriously, quit with the whole vampire-on-a-mission thing already. Even if he's probably right, and Ryan shouldn't trust him.

Ryan looks away from him, his eyes flicking to the ground, and Brendon sighs dramatically. "You didn't miss me?"

"I did," Ryan replies, his grip on Brendon's arm tightening momentarily. "A lot."

Brendon is delighted in more ways than one. "Oh, good. I hated being gone for so long. I wanted to come find you, but they wouldn't let me. I can't believe you're a vampire too, now. Awesome."

Ryan shrugs, keeping his eyes down.

Brendon puffs out another sigh before trying a different strategy. "I missed everyone a lot. My parents too. I bet they're really upset. I wish I could go see them. Have you talked to my mom? Was she upset? I hope she doesn't cry a lot. I want to see her soon. You think I can? My sisters too, I miss them."

Ryan shrugs again. "I don't know, Brendon, just. Shut up."

"It didn't work in life, and it won't work in death, Ross," Brendon laughs. "Come on, you know me better than that."

He sees Ryan crack a smile from beneath the shade of his bangs.

Brendon leans in then, whispers, "Much better," against Ryan's cheek, and Ryan shrugs him off, suddenly frowning.

"Stop."

Brendon tries not to frown right back at Ryan, a heaviness settling in his chest. He'd thought he'd found an edge for a second, the way into Ryan Ross's still too-human heart. Apparently not.

 

***

 

The two lead him on a little until they come to what might be the remains of a house, just a few boards of rotting foundation with a cellar door amongst them. Pete shoves him into it and shuts the door before talking to Ryan again.

Brendon is maybe starting to get annoyed with being treated like a parasite or something highly disposable rather than a vampire just like the two of them.

There's nothing in the room save for a shelf with a couple of cans of creamed corn on it and a filthy mattress in the corner. If Brendon were a human still, it would look pitch black, but with his enhanced vision he can see the mold growing on the damp walls. It's rather bleak, and Brendon's skin itches. He wants to go home, back to William. His head is starting to ache, he wants it so badly.

He can hear Ryan and Pete fighting through the thick doors. Pete wants to kill Brendon immediately, but Ryan is fighting to keep him alive. "He can help us, Pete. And he just. He's Brendon. Just go get the priest guy, and we can try at least."

"Ryan, he's not-" and the fight starts over again.

Brendon huffs and sits down on the floor, leaning against the mattress and closing his eyes. He's ruining the outfit William had made especially for him, but he doesn't really care. William won't mind as soon as he explains himself. He'll lay his head in William's lap and tell him all about how the other two were killed, and how he'd barely escaped with his head on his shoulders, and William will coo over him and mourn his lack of ability to stay clean for more than thirty seconds.

It doesn't matter, anyway. The outfit was beyond repair the second the blood got splashed on it. It's starting to coagulate against Brendon's cheek now, and he scratches at it absently.

"Brendon?" He looks up, blinking widely at Ryan's face peaking into the doorway. "I'm going to stay here with you to keep you out of trouble, okay? Pete's going to get the priest."

Brendon nods, flashing a brilliant grin. "Good, he was mean."

Ryan rolls his eyes and steps inside, quickly shutting the door behind himself and locking it. "He's not mean, just careful. How do you feel?"

"Gross." He shrugs off his suit's jacket and sets it down on the floor before placing his hat on top of that. "I think I have blood all over my face."

Ryan kneels down next to him and delicately rubs his cheek, wipes some of the still-wet blood away. "A little bit, yeah."

Brendon leans toward him, eyes scanning Ryan's face like he's trying to remember every detail of it. "Do you still live in our apartment?"

Ryan shivers but keeps his eyes open wide. "No. Not after you never came home." Ryan bites his lip and Brendon remembers that, remembers the gesture and the emotions behind it, the bad nerves. "It even smelled like you, and I couldn't."

Brendon's hand raises and slips into the back of Ryan's hair, pulling him down a little more. "You did miss me, then."

Ryan tries to avert his gaze, but he's caught, and they both know it. They both can feel the blanket of touchingwantingfuckingloving that Brendon's woven and draped around them. Ryan watches, and Brendon thinks, Yes, finally I can get out of here, but also, Oh god please, Ryan, and he's never felt more conflicted than he does right now.

Then his mind explodes with pain, white, searing bursts of light behind his eyelids. It's so sudden that Brendon nearly is pushed down onto his back with the force of it, and he releases a strangled cry. His hands bury themselves in his hair tightly, and he squeezes his eyes shut, tears pricking at the corners.

"What the hell?" he hears Ryan loudly, too loud, almost like he's shouting right in his ears, and Brendon gasps with pain. "Brendon, fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't. I didn't mean to. Shit, I'm sorry, it's going to be okay," and it's honestly like Ryan's voice is screeching in his head, rattling around in his brain.

"What-?" he gasps, biting so hard on his lip that he can literally feel blood glide lazily down his chin. "Ryan-?"

"Try to calm down, Brendon," Ryan says, and it's still like nails screeching down a chalkboard, like a baby screaming at the top of its lungs, like the choked scream of a dying man. "Try to relax."

"Fucking. Ryan. It. Fuck, it hurts." He feels Ryan pull him close, can smell his aftershave fresh on his skin, and he tries to get away, if only out of principle, but Ryan's definitely stronger than him now. "What. What the fuck did you do to me?"

"Sh, Brendon," Ryan tightens his grip, his fingers curling into Brendon's hair. "I'm trying to help, just. You're going to have to bite me."

Brendon growls and would struggle if he had the strength.

"Bite me, Brendon," Ryan says, firmer, the fingers forming a tight fist as he readjusts Brendon, pulling him in even tighter.

Brendon's lips are right over Ryan's collar, hovering, and he stops breathing because if he smells that aftershave anymore, he's going to give in.

Ryan jerks him, pushing his face down until his mouth is literally smashed over Ryan's neck as he hisses, "Bite me, fucker," and all the unyielding determination in the world couldn't stop Brendon from sinking his teeth into Ryan's throat.

The blood comes into his mouth in a thick, cool rush. It's amazing, unbelievably so, and Brendon moves into it, crawls into Ryan's lap and wraps around him just for a better grip, a better angle. He shifts, his hands moving up to grab Ryan's shoulders, his legs pressing tight around Ryan's waist to hold him still because Brendon thinks he might die if Ryan doesn't let him drink more.

But he does. He lets Brendon drink and drink and drink, his hands smoothing down Brendon's hair and over his back, massaging gentle circles over too-tight shoulder blades. If Brendon could pay attention to anything other than the way his own blood is pounding in his ears, he'd hear Ryan murmuring soothingly, his lips pressed to Brendon's hair.

Finally, Ryan squeezes his elbow. "Okay, that's enough."

Brendon responds by clinging tighter, sucking harder.

Ryan rolls his eyes and pushes against his chest. "Come on, Brendon. You're going to bleed me dry." Brendon makes a sound in the back of his throat but doesn't stop, and eventually Ryan just shoves him off. "Greedy asshole."

Brendon grins lopsidedly.

Ryan smiles back. "You've got blood all over your chin."

Brendon swipes at his face, smearing the dark fluid more than actually wiping it away.

Ryan shakes his head and leans forward, swiping the blood with his wrist. "You always were the messiest eater I'd ever seen. I think there's blood on your forehead now."

Brendon relaxes into Ryan's touch, laughing. "You're one to talk. There's blood all on your shoulder and neck now. You didn't let me lick it so it won't clot for a long time."

Ryan presses a hand to his neck; it's wet and even though his heart doesn't beat to move his blood, it's flowing in a thin, steady stream down to his collarbone. "Whatever, you're not getting anywhere near it. You'll just latch on again."

Okay, maybe Ryan's right. Brendon would like nothing more than a second helping of Ryan's blood. But he fights back anyway. "Come on. You should trust me more."

Ryan snorts. "Really."

"Really," Brendon returns, extending his charm toward Ryan. He knows it won't work now; he can feel the change in him like he'd feel the difference between two jackets. William isn't his master anymore. Ryan did something, flipped some switch, and sealed the deal with blood somehow. Ryan owns him in a sense, and no amount of Brendon's charisma could affect him at this point. Still, it's a habit now, and his charm settles into the room like an electric charge. "Really, really."

Ryan's hand drops from the wound. "Fine. But I'll kick your ass if you try anything."

Brendon blinks bemusedly, but shifts forward onto his knees and half-crawls back to Ryan, settling into his lap again while Ryan steadies him, hands settling against Brendon's hips. Brendon flashes a grin. "Okay, this won't hurt a bit."

Ryan stares at him, unamused. "Just clean up your mess."

Brendon leans down and flicks his tongue out, skimming the blood. When Ryan doesn't push him away again like Brendon is halfway expecting him to, Brendon licks a stripe up his neck before moving down to the edge of Ryan's shirt where a bead of blood is etching a path down Ryan's collarbone, stark lines against a nearly pure white canvas. He catches the blood on the tip of his tongue and follows the stream it's made up until he reaches the actual bite.

Ryan makes a stuttered sound of surprise, and Brendon hums happily. "Told you it wouldn't hurt."

"Just finish, Brendon."

"Going, going," he mumbles against Ryan's skin, smiling. He presses his mouth to Ryan's shoulder and sucks gently, careful to keep his fangs in check.

"You're not even cleaning anymore, are you?" Ryan asks, and Brendon shakes his head, pulling away. His mouth is a crimson smear, and Ryan sniffs. "You've got more blood on you."

Brendon gives him a faux questioning look, his eyes dramatic and wide. "Really?"

Ryan nods. "Yeah."

Brendon reaches toward Ryan and pulls lightly at his sleeve. "Help me get it?"

Ryan's not stupid, okay. Ryan's not stupid, and Brendon's shit at subtlety, but he leans forward anyway, hooking a finger under Brendon's chin and expertly swiping his tongue across Brendon's lip. He can feel Brendon smile in the tiny space between their mouths and isn't surprised in the least when Brendon abruptly closes the space by pushing himself forward hard. Ryan tumbles on his back with the force of it, barely catching himself on his elbows.

Brendon laughs into his mouth, his hands catching in Ryan's t-shirt. "You totally missed me, you bastard."

Ryan hums his affirmation, fingers twining themselves at Brendon's lower back. "You were worried?"

"Well," his fingers trace down Ryan's collarbone and down to where the little blood that escaped Brendon's clean up job has stained Ryan's shirt. "Well, maybe."

Ryan scoffs and bites Brendon's top lip a little, pulling lightly. "Baby."

"M'not," Brendon protests, shimmying his hips a little until they lined up to Ryan's.

Ryan lifts his hips up into Brendon's, the denim of his jeans rough against the expensive fabric of Brendon's pinstripes. He bites Brendon's lip again, this time tasting new blood where his fang is pressing down too hard. "Are so."

Brendon's eyes flutter at the contact of their hips, and his hands shoot for the hem of Ryan's shirt. "Okay, shut up. Naked time."

He makes a surprised noise when Ryan pulls him close and turns them until he's on top, sitting prettily on Brendon's hips and looming over him. "Whatever you say," and he peels off his shirt, now covered in dirt, sweat, blood, and whatever it is that's making this place damp.

"Shit, Ryan," Brendon mutters, his hand reaching up to Ryan's shoulder. "Is that-?"

Ryan rolls his shoulder away from Brendon's hand and shrugs with the same movement. "It's the scar left from the turning, that's all."

Brendon blinks at the jagged scar lacing from the middle of Ryan's neck to the edge of his shoulder. "They bit the hell out of you, dude."

Ryan shrugs again. "Yeah. Now, what were you saying about getting naked again?" He smirks and skillfully unknots the crooked ascot around Brendon's collar. "Or was that just a bunch of talk with nothing to back it up?"

"Such the romantic, Ryan Ross," Brendon snorts as Ryan chucks the ascot across the room and unfastens the first button of Brendon's shirt.

"It's late. Morning's going to come fast, and it's going to make us both pretty tired this time with the… leader switch or whatever I did to your brain. Anyway, I want at least a couple rounds in before we're pulled under," Ryan explains.

"Seriously, you must have been taking charming lessons while I was gone." But Brendon slides his arms around Ryan's neck and pulls him down for another kiss. "Because I'm starting to feel wooed."

Ryan smiles and presses his mouth to Brendon's jaw, edging down to his neck and shoulder. "From you, I'll take that as a compliment. Interesting special ability you have there with the whole charm thing, by the way."

"Eh, we all knew everyone was gonna want me one day. It was just a matter of time." Brendon flips his hand nonchalantly. "You know."

"Pretentious," Ryan snickers against Brendon's chest as he makes his way down, scraping his teeth against perpetually pale skin, watching harsh swollen lines rise in their wake.

Brendon shudders and tangles his fingers lightly in Ryan's hair, shrugging off his shirt once Ryan gets it open and off his shoulders. When he squirms impatiently, Ryan grips his hips firmly. "Be still, Brendon."

Brendon huffs and tugs the hair between his fingers.

It doesn't hurt, but Ryan sends him a sour look and bites down in retaliation, just over Brendon's navel. Too sweet blood floods into his mouth and Brendon arches sharply, hissing until Ryan sucks softly, pulling the blood from him. The new sound he makes is anything but displeased.

"Shit," Brendon breathes, his toes curling, "oh, shit, Ryan."

Ryan pulls off and licks his lips. "You taste like sugar. What the hell."

Brendon's grin is lopsided. "I still eat candy a lot. Doesn't make me full or anything, but I like the taste."

Ryan nods, pressing kisses down over Brendon's stomach as he unfastens his pants and slides them down. When he bites into Brendon's newly exposed hip, Brendon moans and tries to bow up again, but Ryan holds him down.

Ryan hums happily against Brendon's reddened skin. "You think I could get you off just by biting you?"

Brendon nods hurriedly. "Yes. Yes, yes, oh, god, yes."

Ryan makes note of it but pulls off, his fingers slipping into the waistband of Brendon's boxers.

Brendon pushes them down without preamble, kicking off the pants bunched at his ankles and his shoes in the same motion. "Come on, Ryan. Come on, come on."

Ryan bites down on Brendon's inner thigh and watches precome bead up on Brendon's cock, flit down the side. It's a tough decision to either keep drawing up the blood or to transfer over to his cock. In the end, the latter wins out. He's not really awesome at giving head like Brendon is, never has been, but he's not bad at it either, and Brendon keens at the contact.

Ryan's tongue slides around the head, sucking deep, and Brendon's already panting, "Come on, Ryan, please please please." Ryan thinks that maybe he'd be better at blow jobs if Brendon could stay still for them.

He fists the base of Brendon's cock in one hand and prods at his entrance with the other, two fingers from the start because Brendon always liked the stretch.

"Jesus," Brendon mutters, his legs falling completely open. He isn't going to last long like this, not if Ryan was going to keep pushing every on button in his body. "Fuck. Fucking move, Ryan."

Ryan smiles up at him, and lowers his head, his tongue flicking in between his scissored fingers. "Like that?"

Brendon jolts and whimpers, his hands scrambling down his own hips toward his cock in an attempt to bring himself off.

Ryan pushes them away roughly, his eyes narrowing. "Stop," and it's a command.

Brendon shivers from head to toe, his hands balling at his sides. "Not fair, fuck."

Ryan's tongue flicks into Brendon again. "Not my problem." He shrugs and twists his tongue, pressing in further. If Ryan had a secret kink, this would probably be it. He wouldn't do it with anyone else, but rimming Brendon is always entertaining to say the least. Brendon can't sit still for more than two seconds normally, but when Ryan's tonguing him, his hips are practically paralyzed. Ryan assumes that it's because Brendon doesn't want to stop, especially just because he's moving too much.

Ryan can't be too far off the mark with that one, not if the sounds Brendon's making are any indication.

His tongue twists deep, his fingers turning and pressing further as they become lubricated with his spit.

"Ryan," Brendon gasped, screwing his eyes shut, "if you don't- god, you're gonna make me-" he groans breathlessly.

He's never been that great at denying Brendon much more than one extra Red Bull so he asks, "You think you're stretched up enough?"

"Dude, I was stretched up enough, like, ten minutes ago," Brendon deadpans, sweat beading his temples and sticking his bangs to his forehead. "Come on, Ry, I'm dying here."

Ryan shakes his head at Brendon's histrionics, his fingers massaging at the head of Brendon's cock before he draws up. "You're such a drama queen."

"Shut up; you love it." Brendon bites his lip, lifting his hips. "Now fuck me, asshole."

Ryan nods and aligns their hips, shifting his weight to his elbows before pushing up, in, and it's a tight, hot stretch. Ryan shudders.

Brendon's knees draw up to press against either of Ryan's hips, and his breathing is clipped.

Ryan smiles a little, watching Brendon adjust, wiggling his hips. "Ready?"

Brendon grins up at him, lifting his hips enough that Ryan shifts further inside. When Ryan closes his eyes and breathes a heavy sigh, he says, "Hell yes."

Brendon's hands come up around him, blunt nails scratching at Ryan's skin for purchase. On a particularly hard thrust, he keens, his head tossing back, and Ryan can't help it, not when he's staring at such a beautiful column of white throat and not when he's already mostly consumed by heat; he bites down.

Brendon doesn't protest, just adjusts to snag Ryan's hair in one hand and hold on with the other.

The movement of Brendon's body is creating a pseudo-pulse and the blood is still ridiculously sweet as Ryan takes it, takes as much as he can, everything.

Without being touched, Brendon comes loudly between them, cool and sticky against Ryan's stomach. Ryan keeps his pace, keeps pushing even after Brendon starts shaking in one aftershock after another. When he finally comes too, it's with a snap of his hips, a mouthful of sugarmetal and Brendon muttering nonsense into his ear, breath tickling his cheek.

He presses his forehead into Brendon's neck and breathes roughly. "Jesus."

Brendon laughs airily and wiggles as Ryan pulls out and to the side. "That was awesome. Let's go again."

Ryan snorts. "How the hell are you even through the afterglow yet?"

"M'not," Brendon says playfully, gently pushing Ryan's side until he's on his back; Brendon straddles him, "but it would be totally awesome to fuck right into the next one, wouldn't it? And I bet I could get you hard this soon. Being a vampire has some awesome perks if you haven't noticed yet."

"You're bleeding," Ryan says, thumb running through the mixture of blood and come on Brendon's thigh from the earlier bite he'd placed there. "In a lot of places."

"Dude, I'm the living dead. Blood is expendable at this point." He bounces a little, pressing against Ryan's softened cock. "Come on, Ryan. Take advantage of the afterlife. We've got major catching up to do and only until a little after sunrise to do it, remember?"

"You," Ryan says, slow and deliberate, "are a freak."

"You could do it, Ryan. I know you could." Brendon wiggles again, and Ryan can't deny that the dull throbbing of his glow spikes briefly with the movement. "How about if I blow you?"

Ryan blinks, eyes wide. "But I just fucked you."

Brendon laughs, "You should see your face." Then his features fall into a neutral expression as he pats Ryan's thigh. "Seriously though. Spread your legs, and I'll blow you."

Ryan blinks again but complies, edging his legs a little further apart while Brendon moves between them.

"Ready?" Brendon asks, and Ryan doesn't really have time to reply before Brendon's slipping his lips over and down.

He makes a choked sound instead.

Brendon hums happily, the corners of his lips curving up a little. With Ryan soft like this, it's not even a little bit of an issue to take all of him in, swallowing when the back of his throat gets bumped.

Brendon almost shivers when Ryan's fingers curl into his hair, holding him in place. Ryan's hands are amazing, okay; he can't be blamed for this. The fingers smooth back his hair, comb through it gently. The guitar-calloused fingertips dance over his cheeks, gently over his eyelids when he flutters them shut.

As a human, Brendon was always fairly quick to get aroused for seconds and even thirds, particularly when Ryan and those hands were involved; as a vampire, multiple orgasms are almost mandatory. It's not really a surprise that he can feel himself twitching back to life already. Ryan's slower, probably because he wasn't always up for more as a human, but Brendon can feel him thicken in his mouth, and he sucks a little harder.

"Jesusfuck, Brendon," and Brendon almost laughs at Ryan's tendency to run the two clashing words together, but, you know, his mouth is sort of full, "it hasn't even been five minutes."

Brendon pulls of, smirking. "It's because I rock at this, dude. It's the mouth." He presses said mouth to the base of Ryan's cock and drags it down. "And natural talent."

Ryan sits up on his elbows and gives him a bland look. "Someone's full of themselves."

"I'd rather be full of you," Brendon grins, snickering at his own joke because, god, even being turned a vampire couldn't change his inner dorkiness.

"Were you dropped on your head when you were a kid, because seriously," Ryan says before Brendon's tongue slips over the head of his cock, and he can't really think much past, 'yes, please.'

Brendon nuzzles his thigh and smiles. "Ross, you really should be nicer to people who give you blowjobs. I could always just stop, you know."

Ryan tugs at the hair in his hands, glaring because he's almost full-on hard now and would very much like it if Brendon would finish what he started. "Don't be an ass, Brendon."

Brendon offers a mischievous little look, his hand coming up to stroke at Ryan's lower belly. "Calm down, calm down. God, how am I the one always pegged as impatient, huh?"

"Brendon," Ryan hisses.

"I'm going," he sighs, taking in Ryan's cock again, making soft little sucking noises that drive Ryan insane every single time.

Usually when Ryan's about to come, there's a build up, a tightening coil of heat in his abdomen that just keeps spiraling tighter and tighter, lower and lower, until he knows he's about to fall apart and then he's gone. Now though, the coil's not really there; it's more like his whole body is throbbing with dull heat.

When he comes this time, even Brendon is taken by surprise, making a soft noise in the back of his throat. Still, he swallows all of it, a hand gently stroking along Ryan's inner thigh as he drinks.

Brendon cuddles his face against Ryan's hip afterwards. "Told you that you could do it. Nothing's the same as when we were human." He reaches down between his own legs and pulls at his cock, flushed and hard without any actual contact. "Mmf, I bet we could fuck ten times and still be okay."

"We should try it sometime," Ryan says sluggishly, stroking Brendon's mussed hair. The sun must be rising, he thinks, because he can feel the familiar pull of sleep in his chest, more insistent than usual just like he knew it would be. "Hey, get up here."

Brendon's hand stills as he wriggles up, smiling when Ryan cups the back of his neck and pulls him down for a kiss, fangs scraping at his bottom lip.

Brendon's hand is pretty restricted in its movement when he's pressed this close to Ryan, so he pushes closer, grinding down onto Ryan's thigh.

"If you sit back and finger yourself, I'll jerk you off," Ryan offers, but it sounds more like an order than a suggestion.

Brendon shivers and laughs in the same instant, stuttering on the noise. He draws himself up and bends his knees, one leg moving to cross over Ryan's as he moves up his body for a better position. Looking up through his eyelashes, he sucks two of his fingers into his mouth before quickly pulling them out again with an audible pop.

Ryan's hand palms his cock just as he's pressing into himself. The double sensation makes him jolt, and he laughs again, burying his head in Ryan's shoulder. He kisses the scars left by Ryan's turning and hums pleasantly at the warmth twisting in his stomach.

Second orgasms are Brendon's secret favorite. It's never as rushed as the first one for him, never a pleasepleasegodyes. It's more of a constant hum of youandthem and Brendon will never admit to liking going slow, but you know. He does.

He nips at Ryan's skin, leaving tiny pinpricks of blood that he flicks his tongue over when he backtracks.

Brendon can feel Ryan watching his fingers move inoutin, curl, shudder. He's always been a showman, and he's maybe being a little more enthusiastic than the actual actions taking place call for. He moans against Ryan's neck at the growing heat in him. He gasps the first time he hits his prostate, adjusting and pushing harder to move against it as often as possible.

"God, Ryan," he mutters, and Ryan squeezes his cock, pulls that pressure up it just as Brendon's fingers are in as far as they can go; Brendon hisses and squirms, "Fuckfuckfuck. I'm," he stops to breathe, pressing against Ryan's neck and half-sobbing.

"You okay?" Ryan asks, and it's mostly a laugh. Still, Brendon can hear underlying worry.

He sighs, rocking into Ryan's hand. "I'm about to- to come all over the place, so. Yeah, pretty- pretty good," he manages before he does just that, hissing as the slick covers Ryan's hand. Almost before he's into the afterglow, he's bringing Ryan's hand up to clean it off, kissing as much come as he can from Ryan's palm.

Ryan makes a sound and grabs the back of Brendon's neck again, pulling him up for a kiss. It's different from the other kisses, lazy and sluggish to match the way each of them is beginning to feel as the sun raises in the sky outside. Brendon's more than halfway sleeping with Ryan slowly running his tongue over the back of his teeth, and Brendon can't really think of a better way to fall asleep.

Ryan draws away, and Brendon never opens his eyes, just presses his cheek to Ryan's chest. "Pete's going to kill us tomorrow when he sees what a mess we are," he hears him say.

Brendon shrugs and yawns. "Don't care."

"Tired?" Ryan asks, and Brendon nods. Ryan rubs his back. "Come on, mattress. Even vampires get cricks in their necks when they sleep on the floor."

Brendon makes a vaguely annoyed noise, but Ryan's already moving, pushing Brendon up on the mattress. Brendon stumbles onto it, curling into a ball in the middle. It creaks meanly under his weight, smells like dust and mold. Brendon would maybe care if he was any form of coherent.

He can feel Ryan move next to him, pulling what must be one of their jackets over them and adjusting so they can face each other.

Ryan drapes around Brendon, giving him a soft kiss goodnight and pressing their foreheads together. "Night Brendon."

Brendon shifts into Ryan, the fingers of one hand sliding into the spaces between Ryan's. "Mm, Ryan," and he's already dreaming.


End file.
